<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>we were in the gold room by flowercoast</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22358239">we were in the gold room</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercoast/pseuds/flowercoast'>flowercoast</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, i subscribe to the bisexual jester experiencing comphet theory, talks at sunset when they’re soft and in bed, they pine they yearn they kiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:27:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22358239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercoast/pseuds/flowercoast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“We don’t always get what we want,” Beau breathes out, hand dropping in the space between their bodies, right next to where Jester’s upturned palm lies. </p><p>Or: Beau and Jester, finally getting what they want.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>196</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>we were in the gold room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Congrats,” Beau says flatly, when they’re in bed and the sun is shining lightly through the window as it sinks over the horizon, casting shadows on their bed. “On your kiss with Fjord.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Jester whispers into the half-dark. She can only barely make out Beau’s face, which is impressively blank. A sort of nervous giggle threatens to escape Jester then, but she doesn’t let it because this moment feels just a little too important to ruin with a poorly timed laugh. “Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>The kiss. It was more of a peck really, because Jester and Fjord had been posing as a couple to allow time for the others to sneak in the back of some dingy shop to look for incriminating evidence because the shopkeeper was a real sleazebag and they were on a mission for the Dynasty so it was important. And. The point is, really, that the shopkeeper didn’t buy their whole act and was about to turn around, right where Jester could see Beau peeking around the corner so - so she panicked. And kissed Fjord. And. Now she’s here, in bed, talking up at the ceiling with Beau. Well, Beau’s talking up at the ceiling and Jester’s laying on her side and talking at Beau. </p><p> </p><p>Beau doesn’t say anything after, though, and after a while Jester’s kind of convinced that she’s fallen asleep. </p><p> </p><p>Obviously that’s the reason why Jester waits so long, her fang nearly through her bottom lip when she asks: “What’s it like?” </p><p> </p><p>It’s a stupid question. Jester knows that. She’s kissed twice now, and both have been with Fjord, the person she’s been crushing on since forever. He’s handsome and smart and very very kind, but. She just wants to know. Wants to know from Beau. </p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” Beau sounds half-asleep, her voice gruffer than usual. </p><p> </p><p>“Kissing.” Jester huffs out a breath, shifts a little closer to Beau and her radiating warmth. “What’s kissing like?”</p><p> </p><p>To her credit, Beau doesn’t ask why. That’s something Jester’s always really appreciated about Beau, her ability to know when to stop pushing. She doesn’t show it much, because Beau really likes to learn things, which isn’t bad either, but when they’re alone, Beau doesn’t push too much. It’s what Jester prefers, sometimes. </p><p> </p><p>“Well.” Beau shifts a little, and the mattress pulls with her moving weight. Jester slides that inch closer to her, hands resting just a little bit away from Beau’s arm. “They’re not all the same. Sometimes, the kisses are nice, but forgettable. Sometimes they’re just wet. Most of the time, I didn’t feel much of anything, mainly ‘cause I was drunk.” </p><p> </p><p>Beau tilts her head, and her blue eyes lock onto Jester’s, clear and soft. “The good ones, though?” Her gaze is weighted and tinged with just a little bit of sadness at the edges, barely there but still visible, only because Jester’s searching for something. Anything. “They made me feel like I’m goddamn glowing.” </p><p> </p><p>The blues in her eyes are pretty and bright in the sunlight. Jester’s never noticed it before, or if she has, she just hasn’t given it the appreciation it deserves. </p><p> </p><p>With that, Beau turns her head back to the ceiling, breaking their gaze. If Jester squints, she thinks she can see the darkening of Beau’s cheeks, though she can’t tell if that’s just the sun casting moving shadows across her face. </p><p> </p><p>Beau clears her throat. “Why do you ask?” </p><p> </p><p>Jester’s heart stutters at the question. It’s innocuous enough, and in the back of her mind, she knew that Beau would ask this eventually, but still. It shouldn’t be a hard question, but it is. It is. Everything Jester’s known has changed dramatically since this morning, and her head really just refuses to stop hurting whenever she thinks about it. The whole thing is confusing. Really really confusing. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve kissed twice now,” Jester starts. She doesn’t miss the way Beau sucks in a heavy breath, or how Beau tenses slightly. “But. I don’t know.” It’s Jester‘s turn to stare at the ceiling now, as she moves onto her back. “I thought it would feel different, maybe.” </p><p> </p><p>Long stretching rays of sunlight topple over the ceiling, painting pretty shadows of leaves that Jester traces with her eyes. When she squints just the right way, they start to look like people, swaying towards each other softly. They sway apart too, but not for long, not too far. They always come back to each other.</p><p> </p><p>“Kisses are like that, sometimes.” </p><p> </p><p>The first thought that comes to Jester’s brain is: <em> disappointing? </em>But she tamps down that confusing thought before she can voice it by breathing in deep.  Instead, she chews on her bottom lip in thought as she tilts her head away from the ceiling to stare at the side of Beau’s face, softly draped in golden hues. She wonders if Beau’s seeing the swaying leaves.</p><p> </p><p>“Are they always like that?” </p><p> </p><p>Beau tilts her head too, her blue eyes connecting with Jester’s, still weighted with something heavy, something important. “Not always. Not if it’s everything you want.”</p><p> </p><p>“But…” Jester frowns, searches Beau’s eyes for a clarity she knows she won’t find. “But what if it was everything I wanted and it still wasn’t enough?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes the things we want aren’t what we really want.” Those blue eyes are piercing, and Jester sighs, feeling like she’s missing something important. </p><p> </p><p>This is so confusing. If Fjord is what she wanted though, shouldn’t everything be fine? If Fjord is what she wanted, why does her head and heart hurt so much just thinking about it? Because if Fjord is what she wanted, shouldn’t she be overjoyed just like all those girls in her stories always are, after kissing their true love? </p><p> </p><p>… Fjord is what she wanted, right? </p><p> </p><p>Jester turns onto her side, the bedsheets crumpling as she bunches them under her hands. “How do we know what we want?”</p><p> </p><p>“We don’t always.” Beau’s eyes flicker between her own and Jester’s struck with the intimate realization that they’re not really talking about <em> something </em> anymore - at least, not just some hypothetical situation with hypothetical people.</p><p> </p><p>“What do <em>you</em> want?” </p><p> </p><p>Beau breathes in sharp, her eyes rimmed with a sadness that the sunlight only accentuates as it shines over the planes of her face, painting her gold. “I want…” She trails off for a moment, and Jester’s surprises herself when the first thought in her mind is that she hopes Beau says “<em> you </em>”. </p><p> </p><p>“... I want something I can’t have.” Beau finishes quietly. </p><p> </p><p>Jester shifts closer, her hands no longer fisted in the bedsheets but open, palm up on the bed. “How do you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>Shadows spread out over half of Beau’s face as blue eyes search Jester’s, cautious but hoping. With every sweep of Beau’s gaze, Jester’s heart flutters faster and faster, overtaken with this deep longing that’s new. Unknown. </p><p> </p><p>“We don’t always get what we want,” Beau breathes out, hand dropping in the space between their bodies, right next to where Jester’s upturned palm lies. </p><p> </p><p>Jester licks her lips, looks deeper into Beau’s eyes, wonders if they always looked so soft and inviting. They probably always did. After all, the shadows on the ceiling still exist, even when Jester’s not looking at them. Her not looking doesn’t mean they’re not just as pretty. Doesn’t mean they’re not just as important. </p><p> </p><p>There’s still the slightest part of her that’s still confused and aching, but a blanket is settled over it now - the longing in her lungs leading to feeling so clear for the first time since this morning. All of which means that she feels steady and grounded and awake, maybe more awake than she’s felt in a while, really. Because the sunlight paints the room dark gold. Because she’s warm, now, and her head isn’t hurting. Because Beau’s looking at her like Jester looks at the pretty little shadows on the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>“But what if we did?” Jester shifts closer. Her fingers brush up against Beau’s, a fleeting gesture but the closeness affecting all the same. “What if we did get what we wanted?”</p><p> </p><p>Beau smiles now, the corners of her lips curving up into a gentle sweeping motion that crinkles the corners of her eyes and lightens the shadows around her face. “If we got what we wanted...” She trails off, her hand seeking out Jester’s and fingers softly closing around her wrist. Beau squeezes, lightly, and Jester doesn’t need to hear her say anything to understand.</p><p> </p><p>“I think I know what I want,” Jester whispers. Her wrist is warm where Beau’s fingers are wrapped around it, her pulse skyrocketing under the touch. </p><p> </p><p>With that, Jester moves closer, her hand breaking away from Beau’s loose grip to slide up her smooth arm, stopping when her palm is cupped around a warm cheek. Her thumb presses, lightly, against Beau’s lips, so soft in the streaming sunlight. Jester can’t stop staring, can’t stop feeling like some page right out of a storybook; a different one than she’s been reading, but still just as great. Beau’s lips part slightly, and she breathes out. </p><p> </p><p>Jester leans forward. “I want you,” She whispers, her hand leaving Beau’s lips to sweep over her cheekbone, instead.</p><p> </p><p>Beau shuffles closer, her hand landing on Jester’s, over her cheek. She threads their fingers together, presses a kiss to the inside of Jester’s wrist, quick, just enough to get Jester’s pulse to flutter again and the heat to rise in both their cheeks. “You have me, always.”</p><p> </p><p>The sunlight frames Beau so prettily, her face open with such a strong look of wonder that Jester’s chest tightens and expands all at once, full. Jester leans even closer, eyes back on Beau’s lips, stopping only when she feels Beau’s soft breathing puff out against her face. She looks up to find that Beau’s eyes are already shut. Smiling, Jester closes her eyes too and finally, <em> finally </em> presses her lips to Beau’s and that feeling of clarity clicks into place further as her hand slides around Beau’s cheek to wind into her soft brown hair. Jester pulls Beau closer, their legs tangling under the sheets and her tail winding around Beau’s arm where it’s draped over her waist. Beau’s lips are soft and her body is warm and Jester just <em> knows </em>. </p><p> </p><p>This is exactly what she wants.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>title taken from Richard Siken’s “snow and dirty rain”<br/>full quote: We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said "What do you want, sweetheart?" and you said "Kiss me." Here I am leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack, my silent night, just mash your lips against me. We are all going forward. None of us are going back.<br/>catch me on tumblr @flowercoasts! im taking prompts and my askbox is always open :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>